Doctor Who Forgotten Suns Chapter Twenty Three
When Sub-Commander Talamane arrived back at the hub, the first thing that she noticed was that the Commander had engaged his privacy field. However, due to his previous orders, she felt justified in disturbing him, so waved in his peripheral vision until he noticed her. Silandor nodded at her sharply, made some adjustment to his control pad, and dropped the screen long enough for her to stand by his side. He held up a hand before she could report and, once the screen was up again, tapped his pad. “This is absolutely astonishing, Talamane! Our giant is back, and he appears to be willing to talk! Look here, Thadokta and his friends can talk to him, it is really quite remarkable. And most importantly, look here! What do you see?” Leaning in closer the Sub-Commander saw what he meant. ”His face is hidden by some kind of screen in the helmet? Is that significant, Sir?” “Of course it is! If they cannot actually see what this being looks like behind that screen, it may be possible to reveal his existence to the enclave’s. If carefully controlled, and his true nature hidden long enough, a truly meaningful exchange may be possible. If we get them so interested and involved in this being as a person, well… maybe his appearance won’t come as such a shock to the enclaves…” “That sounds like a lot of ifs and maybe’s to me, Sir. No offense intended.” “None taken, Talamane. You have news?” “Yes, Commander. The Tec’s have completed their work on the airlock. They should have opened it fully once I had departed that level, so perhaps it may be wise…” Silandor swore and punched his panel rather more aggressively than required, calling the feed from Choltz’ visi-com to the fore. He was encouraged to see that it now showed First taking charge of the clean-up operation. “Tec-Op Choltz, this is Silandor. Do you read me?” he barked into his speaker-bud. The view bounced as he heard Choltz’ excited shout. “Yes, Sir, I can hear you clearly!” First started, then turned back to stare at her in surprise. “I said nothing to you, Tec, is there a problem?” “No, Sir! I mean… Yes, Sir! I mean… I am in communication with the Clade Commander, Sir!” Silandor shook his head and intoned, “Just tell him to carry on, Tec. I want to see if I can reach Faramandar. Silandor out.” He cut the connection before she could respond and flipped back to Palasar’s feed. Apparently the woman was alternating her view from Dokta, who was somehow talking the giant’s incomprehensible gibberish; to the being itself, who was either listening impassively, or perhaps sleeping. It was hard to tell. Quashing any disappointment that he could not actually see his brother’s reaction to his words, the Commander hailed him brusquely. “Faramandar, this is Silandor. Do not respond. If you are hearing this, one throat-click. Now.” The response came clearly through his earphones; Silandor nodded at Talamane, then continued. “Observe and remember. Report when you are able to do so without alerting the others, I do not want my presence announced just yet. Make every effort to assure the giant that we mean it no harm. I may be unavailable at some point in the near future, in which case you will report to Sub-Commander Talamane. She will alert me should I be required. Oh… by the way, brother… you have my permission to make this foolhardy attempt to contact the vessel’s pilot. Silandor out.” He allowed himself an ironic chuckle as he broke contact, then turned to his Second Spear. “Talamane, much as I am loathe to leave this unfolding story, I must engage in some damage control. It appears that our friend over there is at least willing to consider talking to us: for this I believe that we owe our thanks to Zoee, Thadokta’s friend. She seems to get along with him quite well. I am hoping that things continue to go peacefully, but contact me immediately through Thraxle if matters change dramatically. Instruct Manonkar that I want multiple backup recordings of the entire proceedings from now on.” With no further ado, Silandor deactivated the privacy screen and extricated himself from his command throne, calling out as he strode towards the exit portal. “Sub-Commander Talamane, you have the hub.” “Aye, Sir! I have the hub.” Replied a rather nonplussed Talamane. The chilled snacks in the bowl before him were just beginning to stir from their torpor, so Archivist First Valmik resignedly made a selection. One particularly juicy looking vorp-grub was markedly livelier than its fellows, frantically attempting to distance itself from a nearby manticore beetle. (The creature lacked the intelligence to realise that its natural predator was no threat, in its current condition, whereas Valmik most definitely was!) He gripped the wriggling morsel between thumb and forefinger and popped it into his mouth; surprised to find himself relishing the cold juices as he clamped his teeth down upon it. He decided to concentrate on the grubs first; the selection of shelled insects still bore the sheen of the chiller cabinet, a thin icing of frost glittering on their carapaces. It was most unsatisfactory. Valmik liked to catch his food as much as the next man - it stimulated the appetite, and added flavour to the prey - but only in the privacy of one’s own enclave’s dining facilities. He would not have his people be seen as anything less than dignified. Certainly not by the military morons that were holding them in forced captivity (for captivity it was - no matter how they chose to phrase it,) or the suspected spy-eyes of the absent Clade Commander. Equally, he had had no intention of eating the prepacked (dead!) garbage that they had initially been offered! He had argued vociferously and effectively for real food to be collected from stores, realizing that the meals waiting in his own vivarium would probably be too active for dignified consumption. He had actually been planning a trip to the mammalarium, where several fast breeding (and easily maintained) species of small furry creatures provided a much more entertaining hunt. However, now that he and his colleagues had spent quite some time in (fascinating) conversation with the mammal called Thadokta, Valmik found the idea less appealing somehow – and certainly less politic! And they were all confined to the amphitheater for the moment, anyway… He glanced around at the armed (armed!) guards securing the exits that he could see, allowing himself to glower resentfully at them, then decided to try a chorpal-bug that was just beginning to feebly wave its legs. Remarkable! The carapace was crunchier, the contents somehow thicker and chewier - retaining all the flavour of the creature’s chorpal-pod diet to an astonishing degree! Momentarily distracted by culinary enthusiasm, Valmik had to remind himself to be angry at this shameful treatment, deciding to harass that useless Thraxle fellow once more. Just as he opened his mouth to demand the presence of Silandor for the umpteenth time, he heard the portal behind him iris open, and turned to see the wretched man himself entering the auditorium. “It’s about time that you finally made an appearance, Clade Commander,’ Valmik sneered, ‘I trust that you have an explanation for the disgraceful way that we have been treated.” The arrogant worm-cast actually had the temerity to look surprised at this welcome! “You have been ill-treated, Archivist First? I gave specific instructions that everyone was to be treated with the respect due to all the enclaves.” “That is not what I meant, and you know it, Commander!’ Valmik’s ire rose further as Silandor stepped around him to reach the stage. ‘We have been detained - detained man! And by armed troopers, no less! This is totally outrageous! Are we common criminals, to be dealt with so?” Silandor turned back to him and studied the bowl that Valmik still held, with what the Archivist assumed to be a feigned, almost ironic, interest. Then, to his astonished outrage, the Commander picked out the largest mantis and bit it in half; chewing appreciatively as juice dribbled from his mouth and down his fingers. “Mmm… very tasty!’ Silandor mumbled around the mouthful, ‘Tell me. Do you really believe that I would allow criminals to eat better than my own crew, Valmik?’ He languidly snaked out his tongue to lick the juices from his fingers, before popping the rest of the insect into his mouth. “No, Archivist First, there are sound reasons for this lockdown, I assure you. As I am here to explain. Please be seated.” Once on the stage, Silandor spread his arms and called, “if I might have everyone’s attention!’ Valmik considered this request absurdly redundant, somewhat fatuous in fact, as all eyes had been fixed on the man since he had entered the room - surely he knew that! ‘I will not apologise for confining you to this auditorium, but I do regret not having been available to explain my reasons to you earlier, and I am sorry if the methods employed appear somewhat heavy handed.’ There were several barks of contemptuous laughter at this, Valmik’s amongst them, but Silandor continued calmly. ‘You are being held here purely as a precaution - I sent armed troops, so that nobody would underestimate the seriousness of the situation. The enclaves are not being singled out, I assure you. I have initiated a closed protocol throughout the ship. Much has occurred that you are currently unaware of…’ (More snorts and shaking of heads.) ‘…and I have been too busy doing my job to pander to any one group of individuals. So, please be aware that the situation is ongoing: my presence is currently required in the hub, but I am sparing you this time even so - I do not intend to repeat myself. We are, even as I speak, evacuating the exploratory team from the alien vessel. They are all being quarantined. It is my sad duty to inform you that we have suffered casualties. Four of my Troopers are dead.” As Silandor had intended, a shocked yet sympathetic silence descended on his audience. Many shifted uncomfortably in their seats, a few cleared their throats in embarrassment, at a loss as how to respond to this news: until Archivist First Valmik rose to his feet. “I think that I speak for all of us, Clade Commander Silandor, when I express my deep sorrow at this sad news. However, without meaning any disrespect, can you tell us how these four actually died?” “Not precisely, Archivist, but I emphasise that we do not suspect anything contagious in nature at this time. There is no evidence of harmful contaminants. As I said earlier, the lockdown and quarantine is purely a precaution. So… I do not believe that the Indigo Flame is under any direct threat, but I am playing it safe until the bodies can be examined by our pathologists. They have not been brought back to us yet, so I have not seen them with my own eyes. Unfortunately, nobody on the team actually saw them die. It appears that these soldiers had moved into a different section from the rest of the party, and were not missed until the discovery of their corpses. Apparently they died from physical injuries, but it seemed advisable to investigate further before making any assumptions.” “Erm…’ Valmik ventured nervously, “What kind of physical injuries, Commander?” “That I cannot answer, until the bodies have been examined. I have been informed that they experienced blunt force traumas, but we can only speculate as to the cause at present. Before you ask, here are a few possibilities that have been put forward: but I must emphasise the speculative nature of these suggestions, in the absence of definitive information. ‘One: These luckless individuals may have activated some form of automated defense system, what some people may choose to refer to as booby-traps. Those who recovered our dead did not encounter any such devices, but the possibility cannot be discounted. ‘Two: Please note that I… hesitate to put this suggestion forward, but it is possible that Thadokta lied to us, and there are more of his kind on board that ship. Other than the friends that he told us about, I mean. I know that this seems unlikely; personally I doubt that any of his species would be a physical match for an Oortelian, even an archivist, and I don’t truly believe Thadokta intends us any harm. However, if his crew is larger than we were told… Well, maybe not all of them are as reasonable as he appears to be. ‘Three: There is yet another lifeform aboard that vessel, one that we have not yet identified. This also seems very unlikely to me. The odds of three completely different species - and I include ourselves in that count - all arriving at the same place at the same time simply beggar belief. Still, it must be considered… and before anyone else makes the obvious suggestion… Yes… I have acknowledged the possibility that there is a surviving Ancient, as preposterous as this sounds.” The auditorium exploded into a cacophony of incoherent comments and queries, until the Archivist First bellowed for quiet. Valmik was trembling as he asked the Commander, ‘You are serious about this, Silandor? You actually suggest that one of our living ancestor’s may still exist?” ”No, Valmik, I simply present it as a possibility to consider…” “But why would an Ancient want to kill our people?” “Why would an Ancient even know who we are?” “But… But, we cannot just walk away from this, Commander! The significance to our people, to our society, to our history… it is incalculable! This must be investigated further, regardless of any risks!” “Ah… Now there I can give you some good news. Before he left us to help his friends, Thadokta made some very useful suggestions. They may enable us to establish a more reliable link with those that are remaining aboard that ship to, as you say, investigate. A small group from the original team is accompanying Thadokta in his search for his friend, Zoee. I hope that you now have a better understanding of my actions, even if you still feel that they were unnecessary, and realise that I intend no insult as I return to supervise proceedings from the hub. ‘What I would ask of you all is this: please put your remarkable minds together to consider the ramifications of everything I have just told you. You must remain here, for the reasons I have just specified - at least for the time being. ‘Put that time to good use. ‘If anyone here can think of any other possible options that I need to consider, I will afford them due attention. We all need to work together on this. As soon as we establish direct communication, it will be made available to you - as observers, initially. If we should discover whatever killed my troopers, your comments and advice will be invited - and most appreciated. ‘That is all. I must go. Archivist First, may I trust you to organize your compatriots in the most efficient manner possible?” Silandor was already leaving the stage. Feeling more energized and invigorated than at any time he could remember, Valmik nodded to Silandor’s departing back. “You may, Clade Commander, you may indeed!” It was like walking in the footsteps of legend, Faramandar mused, still not entirely believing the evidence of his own eyes. The strange little alien, Thadokta, seemed to have taken charge of the situation without the Ghost First having any clear idea how it had happened. True, Faramandar had been stunned, almost in a state of denial - on first coming into the presence of the Ancient. Even after Silandor had managed to contact him with confirmation and instructions - such as they were - Faramandar had left most of the talking to Palasar and her alien friends. He just hadn’t trusted himself to add anything coherent or useful at the time! Now they were all (apparently) heading towards the flight deck of this ship out of mythology, and Faramandar found himself with time to analyse the circumstances facing him a little more sensibly. Far ahead, his enormous strides outpacing them all, was the giant pilot. He was carrying Thadokta, and they appeared to be deep in conversation, if their body language could be interpreted in Oortelian terms. This had been at the little alien’s suggestion, as he appeared to be quite keen to check on his own ship - and to get to the bottom of this entire mystery, if possible, of course. They were trailed by Palasar and Thadokta’s companions, who were busily comparing stories of their adventures, whilst the Specialist diligently observed, only occasionally joining in. She, like Faramandar himself, was unable to refrain from frequent glances at ‘Null’. (Evidently this was the Ancient’s name.) The Ghost First had chosen to drop back further still and discuss matters more intelligibly with Silandor, only to find him unavailable! Blast the man! That was so typical of his brother! Now Faramandar was left alone with his thoughts: he had no intention of doing anything more than observe, as per the Clade Commander’s instructions. Still, he had left word with the Second Spear that he expected to be contacted immediately on the Commander’s return, and that would have to suffice. What puzzled him most though, was what Silandor could possibly be dealing with that took precedence over this… this astonishing turn of events! He had always been this way. Silandor followed his own path, achieving the required results by whatever means he considered necessary. Faramandar supposed that his brother would never change. They had both survived a misguided experiment in social engineering, at the very beginning of their lives. It was also illegal, as the scientists running it had wanted to see what would happen if a brood was left to fend for itself, as in primitive times. They had hoped to prove that stronger, more independently minded, Oortelians would result. Although the concealed nesting cave had been well stocked with edible lifeforms, the researchers had miscalculated unforgivably. By the time the official Nest Guardians had been notified of this crime by the surviving scientists, Faramandar and his brother had devoured all of their weaker siblings. The one man foolish enough to enter the cave, in an attempt to rein them in, had fed the feral hatchlings for several days. When they were finally captured by the authorities, these hatchlings were deemed too dangerous to be handled by regular nest guardians: they were handed over to the military - to Fleet. Ironically, the researchers had succeeded in their attempts. Named after heroes of legend, Silandor and Faramandar were indeed stronger, more aggressive, and more intelligent than others of equivalent age. Fleet decided that it would be worth the investment in time to raise and educate the brothers to maturity. But first, the scientists responsible were sentenced to death, for ‘mass-murder by proxy’, and fed to Fleet’s new protégé’s. Faramandar felt little guilt over this brutal introduction to life. Hatchlings were scarcely more than hunger on legs in the initial stages of their development: this was why the Nest Guardian enclave had been created, after all. He personally had no doubt that these dedicated people had saved the Oortelian species from itself, but he often wondered what it would have been like to grow up in their care. He suspected that his brother had been more deeply affected by the ordeal that had been their shared childhood, but Silandor never spoke of it - to anyone. The Ghost First had just about decided to catch up with Palasar, when he received the hoped for hail from his brother. “Faramandar. I’m back. Report.” “No, Brother, not until you answer a few of my own questions. Who is this Thadokta creature? What is his position here? Can I trust him? I don’t know anything about what is actually going on here - I cannot fulfil my task without a better understanding. You of all people should know that!” “Mmm… You are lucky this is a secure channel, I can overlook your tone - on this occasion. But you are also correct - I shall brief you more fully momentarily - first I need to know your own position… all Palasar is showing me is Jaymee and Zoee.” “Understood. We are currently being escorted to the pilot’s - his name is Null, by the way - flight deck, at the suggestion of Thadokta. Null appears to be cooperative: he has apologised for killing our troopers, in case you did not hear that, and he has displayed no further aggression thus far. I am cautiously optimistic, given that I don’t know exactly what we are trying to achieve here.” “I’ll get to that. Have you seen this Null’s face?” “Not yet. Is that important, Silandor?” “More than you might imagine, Faramandar. I am hoping that, if all goes well, I will be able to include the enclaves in future discussions, but on no account must they be allowed to see our giant friend’s face. At least, not yet. Now listen carefully, I have a lot to explain to you.” Freed of the necessity to sub-vocalise any further, thereby possibly attracting the attention of the others, Faramandar increased his pace to catch up with them. However, as the Clade Commander began to go into increasing detail about… everything… he found himself slowing down once more. Had he possessed the facial musculature for it, he would have been frowning. Category:Forgotten Suns